


Echoes and Shadows

by Ali_JT



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ali_JT/pseuds/Ali_JT
Summary: With the impending thought of Prince Henry's eighteenth birthday on the horizon everyone in Storybrooke is running around to get ready. What they don't suspect, though, is new arrivals to the town. Who are they? Where did they come from? How did they get into Storybrooke?And most importantly...What do they want?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first several chapters about a year ago and published them on Wattpad. However, I was getting no feedback, so now I'm here.

A swan glided along the glassy surface of the lake, causing soft waves in its path. The moon, full to bursting and high in the sky, shone off its feathers, giving them a silver glow that glinted when it moved its head. Every so often there would be a quick movement and the swan would dip its head into the water, scooping up a midnight snack. It was total and utter peace. Suddenly, a branch snapped on shore, making the swan turn to the noise. 

A girl of around nineteen stood watching the majestic creature, she seemed calm, but her muscles were tense with an unnerving sense of worry. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, sticking her hands deep into her pockets. Usually, she would have enjoyed the night. The cool air chilled her skin and sent goose-bumps racing up her arms; this was her element. Tonight, however, she had to be unfeeling. This wasn't going to be even close to remotely simple and there was no time for taking in the beauty of the shadows.

Much like she had taken the swan's attention, her's was now turned to the forest that surrounded the lake. She stood straighter than she already had been, sizing up all 5'3" of her. Two boys crashed into the clearing, practically pushing each other to get there first. They stopped when the saw her disapproving glare and one of them broke into a crooked grin.

"Don't look so upset, Rosie," he said. Her eyes shifted from one to the other. While their height and build were almost identical, the boys were totally dissimilar. The one who had spoken, the one directly in front of her, had a disheveled mess of blond hair on his head that somehow (matched with the grin) made him even more attractive than she already thought he was. The second boy, on the other hand, had black hair that had appeared to have been combed well over the 100 strokes he found necessary.

Rose pulled back, "Don't patronize me, Ian. Did you get it?" The second boy now moved forward, holding up a brown cloth. A smirk appeared, the corners of her mouth twitching up. Almost greedily she took it and a huge wave of relief crashed onto her. She breathed deeply, taking it all in; even the night around her seemed to stand still as she reveled in her freedom. With all this, she still wanted to see it. The thing she had been denied since her creation. 

The silver glinted in the bright moonlight like the feathers of the swan had, outlining the name that was carved delicately into the steel. Black curled and snaked along the sides the already curving edges, coming to a visibly sharp tip. She gripped the thick rope-like handle, getting a feel for it. After a second of marvel she ripped the cloth away, flinging it into the grass by the edge of the lake.

"Okay, boys," Rose said, her sly expression still very much present as she put the object in her boot. The cold metal pressed to her skin, letting her know it was there. She slipped her pant leg over it, concealing it for the most part. "Are we ready to do this?"

"Whenever you are," the second boy nodded firmly.

"Good," she turned to the road a little ways from where they were standing, "let's go."

"Right behind you," Ian jogged to be at her side and the other boy strode up next to her, as well. They seemed to breathe simultaneously and, holding hands, they took their first steps to Storybrooke.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry's thumb hesitated over the send button. The text was so simple and, yet, he found it absolutely terrifying.

                                                          _Dinner tonight?_

He and Grace Hatter had been friends for awhile now, but the thought of asking her out- he sighed and held down the delete key; not today. Some other time... _maybe_.

A loud thunk alerted him to his order. Putting the phone down he reached across the table, wrapping his hands around the warm mug. He breathed in the haze of steam rising from the chocolate. He frowned, something was missing. Filled almost entirely to the brim- yes. Scalding temperature, for danger of tongue burning- sure thing. Tower of whipped cream- check. Ah, there it was.

"Hey, Ruby," he said, looking up to where she was still standing, one hand on her hip and the other holding a tray. "Could I get some cinnamon, please?"

Ruby raised a heavily penciled eyebrow and slid the container of cinnamon to him. She had noticed he was sitting with his head down, appearing to be contemplating his life choices, and anyone who knew anything about Henry Mills knew his impulsive decisions were never thought against. The lack of cinnamon had been a small test, to see if he was okay.

"Thank you," he now said, giving himself a generous helping of the spice.

"Alright, what's wrong?" Ruby slipped into the booth next to him, setting her tray down so it wasn't cumbersome. Henry offered a small shrug.

"Nothing's wrong," he said.

"I get it," she answered, trying to hide a sly smile, "who's the girl?"

Henry choked on his drink, "She's no one! I mean- there is no one. Or, she's- well, she's.... Grace...."

"Darn," she said, her tone full of teasing, "that means I owe Killian a couple hundred." The shocked look on the teenager's face made her smile. He tried to hide it with another quick swallow of his hot chocolate.

She now leaned back and tapped a couple fingers on the table, obviously thinking of where to take the conversation now, "If you want my advice," she said finally, nudging him with her elbow, "I would say you should ask her to be your date to the ball."

Henry blinked at her. The ball, of course. Why didn't he think of that? The fact that he was turning eighteen meant that he was being "forced" to bring a girl as his date; Snow and Charming, as the loving king and queen (as well as the family members spearheading the gathering), fully expected it of the young prince. He brightened, if she hesitated he could tell her it was strictly obligatory. Perfect.

Across the diner Leroy yelled at Ruby for a coffee refill. She shoved it back at him and told him to get it himself. Henry, meanwhile, was coming back to Earth. He grabbed his phone, simultaneously taking a five from his pocket.

"Going already?" She feigned surprise.

"Thanks, Ruby, keep the change," Henry answered, already halfway out the door. He sent a quick text to Grace asking her to meet him at his house later, around 6:00, and turned left on the Main Street sidewalk.

The day was crisp, the sky above a solid baby blue like a child's drawing, making him smile. He felt unnaturally happy and began pondering the parts of his day that could have made him feel like that when, suddenly, he was on the concrete. The person who had plowed into him only muttered a small apology before sprinting off, not even bothering to help him up. Still on the ground he twisted to see the girl skid around a corner, a long black coat billowing out behind her like a cape.

Upon standing he found that he was in the front of Mr. Gold's Pawnshop, the door was ajar. He moved closer, opening the door wider and looking inside. Everything appeared to be untouched, except for the lock, which had been splintered. The shop was seemingly empty, the dust floating lazily in the light shining through the curtains on the window of the side entrance.

"Grandpa?" He called, coming entirely inside. Everything was silent, not even the record was playing, meaning that Rumpelstiltskin must have gone home for the day. Henry's eyes swept the counter, looking for anything that could be out of place. It wasn't that he knew the shop all that well, but maybe he would-

The safe.

Behind the counter at the head of the store the painting was swung open to reveal what looked like everything that's usually there.

"They didn't take anything?" Henry whispered to himself, eyebrows furrowing in utter confusion. It didn't make any sense, there was a large number of things that he would have tried to haul away if he robbed this store. The bell rang behind him and he froze, turning on his heel to see his grandfather enter the shop. Rumple pulled back a little when he saw him, surprised that he was here.

"Henry, what are you doing here?"

"I walked by and the door was open," Henry answered, obviously pointing towards robbery. Rumple peered past him at the safe and Henry tried to amend, "They were in the safe."

"Were they now?" Rumple was skeptical as he moved around the boy, but he didn't question him further. After taking a quick mental inventory of the safe's contents he started to walk to the back room. "Will you call your mother for me," he said over his shoulder, "I believe this should be reported."

It was Henry's time to be surprised, "Really?" He walked to the back room, Rumple was already searching through his cabinets, trying to find what they might have happened to take.

"Well, as much as I would like to keep this in the dark, I'm sure that the sheriff will be a lot more- hmmm... sympathetic if we tell her now rather than later."

Henry nodded his agreement and put the phone to his ear, hearing it ring a couple times before Emma's voice came over the line.

"Hey, buddy, what's up?"

"Hey, mom, I'm over at Grandpa's shop," he said, watching as Rumple moved from one cabinet to the next. "There was a break in."

"Of course there was...." a voice complained in the background of the call.

Henry felt the start of a smile, "Are you with Killian?" Silence told him yes.

"Okay, kid, I'll be there in a second," Emma said.

"Ignoring the question doesn't make it go away, mom," Henry said.

"I'll be there in a second," Emma repeated, hanging up the phone.

Henry walked over to the table that always stood in the room, littered with magical items.

"So," he said slowly, picking up a small snow globe of sorts, the inside was a tiny rocking chair where an old man was sleeping soundly. Curiously he shook it, the man was on the edge of awaking, his heavy eyelids blearily looking at the glass, when he fell back asleep again.

"Is there anything missing?" he asked, setting it back in its place.

"Yes," Rumple's somber tone made Henry's head snap up to look at him. The Dark One's hand was gripping the edge of the cabinet's door, knuckles white.

"What is it?" Henry asked, wide-eyed.

Rumple took a deep breath through his nose, trying not to go completely berserk in front of his grandson, he mustered a partially calm couple of words, "Pandora's Box."


	3. Chapter 3

Henry turned the key and pulled it out of the ignition, listening to the engine sputter off. He had been sent home, again. This made no sense, he was good with a sword and while his archery skills had much to be desired of, he was alright at it. His mother was just being her overprotective self. He had no right to judge on her parenting right now, but... he really wanted to. A little voice told him he was being a stubborn teenager. Then another told him he was totally justified in his thinking. He sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car 'Stupid teenage brain'.

He unintentionally slammed the door and stalked to his house, fumbling with his keys for the one that fit the lock. He opened it and let door swing open, blowing his bangs from his eyes. Right, another thing the grandparents were making him get besides a date- a haircut. When was that appointment supposed to be, again?

A dog started barking in the neighborhood and Henry's eyebrows furrowed. Dogs rarely barked here, they all knew everyone. He peeked around the part of his house that jutted out from the porch. The only thing around the side was a huge tree that had been there when they moved in. The dog was relentless, its barks deviating in volume from a loud RORF to a small whimper, and so he did the reasonable thing. He checked it out. 

Unnecessarily sliding along the side of the house, he poked his head around the corner and found himself staring directly into a pair of piercing blue eyes. He jumped away, falling onto his back for the second time that day. Then, without another second of thought, the boy tore away from the scene. Henry pushed himself up and looked after him as he jumped the small picket fence. The boy had a leather book under his arm. The young prince's blood froze in his veins. The story book.

"HEY!" He practically vaulted off of the ground, hopping over the white fence and sprinting down the street. Swinging around the last building on the block, his hand cutting on the brick. The kid's blond hair never disappeared from sight, weaving in and out of pedestrians walking the sidewalk. Henry's eyes narrowed and started to water from the wind, his cheeks grew raw from the cool day. Several times he yelled at people ahead to stop the thief, but they always turned around far too late or were holding something they found more valuable than his book.

Athleticism did not run in his family tree and yet the chase consumed him, compelling him to keep running even though his throat was burning. In fact, he was so distracted that he ran headlong into a man with a large box in his arms. Fabric flew all over the sidewalk, raining down purples, blues and pinks. Some even landed in the road where a car promptly drove over it, leaving a dirty tire mark slashed across it like a wound. 

"I- I'm so sorry!" Henry began to walk backwards slowly, hoping he could sufficiently apologize without letting the kid get away. That's when he noticed who it was and his face turned scarlet. 

Jefferson Hatter hadn't bothered with acknowledging the boy's apology and instead went to picking his soiled fabric from the road, muttering to himself. 

"Henry?" He looked up sharply to see Grace standing by, and, despite his blunder, she was smiling at him. He relaxed a bit, hoping that she could tell her father to be a little less upset than he probably was. 

"Oh, Grace, hey... I-" he stole a small glance at his watch, it was 5:54.

"I was just on my way to meet you," she said. 

"Yeah," Henry looked over his shoulder, somewhere far down the road, the thief and his book had disappeared. He let out an angry sigh and then dipped down and started to gather fabric in wads. "Grace, listen, I was just-"

"Following the blond guy, right?" she interrupted. 

Henry's attention snapped back to her, "You saw him?"

"Of course, I even saw where he turned," there was a mischievous glint in her eye, hinting at a hidden smile. It was almost as if she was saying "Admit it, Henry, you need me". 

"Grace, I could kiss you!" Henry's skin became an entirely new shade of vermillion and Jefferson straightened from sorting his spilled fabric, staring the young prince down, "but I won't... because I- I won't-" he lowered his voice, "shut up, Henry." 

"Dad, I'm going to go with Henry, alright?" 

Jefferson's eyes narrowed slightly, but finally he nodded his disgruntled approval.

Her flawless smile was uncovered as she grabbed his hand, "This way." 

They were suddenly speeding away from the mess; Grace pulled him along and they raced to a familiar place: the stables. In spite of everything, Henry felt a wave of nostalgia as he remembered the first time he visited the horses there with David. Inside was desolate. A couple of horses were nickering to each other, but besides that it was silent. The young prince slowly stepped around Grace, keeping her behind him. In a swift rush of regret, he thought of his sword at home. 

Moving throughout the stables he found his horse's stall. His eyebrows furrowed, and his horse came to the open door, nuzzling his owner's shoulder. 

"Hey, boy," Henry whispered to him, "did you see someone run through here?" He rubbed the horse's nose. That's when Grace walked up. She thought he had been acting odd and finally came forward about it. 

"Henry...?" She asked, gingerly placing a hand on his arm, "Are you alright?"

Henry looked to her and smiled, "Yeah, I'm fine, Grace." 

"Henry, your hand's bleeding!" She gasped, holding it up so they could both see. He had indeed cut it on the building during the chase, but hadn't noticed it. He watched as the blood slipped down through the cracks in his skin and a stream disappeared into his jacket sleeve.

'So it is,' he thought, turning his hand over to see if there was any damage on the other side.

"Come on," Grace continued, "let's go back to your house and clean you up."

"Sure," he answered, walking ahead of her to the exit, still on the lookout for anyone who could be lurking. She frowned, giving the stables one last sweeping glance and, upset with finding nothing, jogged to catch up with him. She just missed one thing. The eyes that were watching from the rafters.


	4. Chapter 4

Ian's hands were sweating and sweating meant he was slipping and slipping wasn't good; especially since the prince and his girl were still present in the stables. He could tell that the prince was on edge, his entire body rigid as if on guard against something. Did he still expect Ian to jump him? Why would he? He got away, the possibility of him doing so a second time was slim to none. He chose not to chance it. 

The blond was spread-eagle in the rafters, a foot and a hand on one beam with the other half of his limbs on the one parallel. He muffled a grunt, carefully shifting so his weight was moved to another spot, relieving some of the pressure. It was getting hard to breathe, the muscles in his neck straining against the thought of falling and being found.

He tried to keep his breathes quiet, which was becoming increasingly difficult. There was a point when he thought they were leaving, but turned around. His mind burst into a cluster of swear words as his arms started to shake. Then, almost as if it was molasses, a single drop of sweat slid along his forehead to the end of his nose. He closed his eyes, praying it wouldn't drop. The prince left the stable, still steaming about losing his book. A sigh of relief that was halfway out of him was choked on. The girl stayed in her place, still frowning at her surroundings. She whirled around several times, probably trying to find him, knowing he was there, but to Ian she looked rather like a dog chasing its non-existent tail. Stepping carefully, she moved to the exact spot under him. 

He felt the sweat leave his nose. She then did something that saved him entirely, she followed the prince out, the drop splashing to the ground in what felt like a dull explosion. He heard the door slide closed and collapsed to the ground, landing on a booted foot. The horse the prince had favored nickered at him, watching him warily, its ears perked. With a smile, Ian moved forward.

"Hello," he said, "did you take good care of my book for me?" He opened the stall door and moved inside, the horse backed against the wall, ears pinned. Ian picked up the story book that he had hidden in a bed of hay and, resisting the strong urge to just sit down and read it, was about to leave when he had an idea. Slowly approaching the horse, the book now tucked under his arm, he stuck his hand under the animal's nose. He made a few kissing noises, hoping that maybe it would put it at ease. 

"Hey, boy, you're a good horse, aren't you?" He spoke calmly, trying not to spook it. The horse's suspicion was obvious and speaking to it like a child wasn't helping Ian's case much. The blonde clicked his tongue several times, looking around the stall for something he could use. There was nothing in sight that would be a good bribe for a horse. 

He spat a curse at the ground and thought for a bit more, a muscle working in his jaw. Finally, after exhausting all options he decided he needed to resort to magic. He searched his memory, trying desperately to remember what Rose had tried to teach him. He held out his hand palm down, took an extremely deep breath and flipped it up. Within a cloud of navy blue smoke a shiny red apple appeared. 

The horse gave a startled whinny and stretched his neck farther to sniff at the human in its territory. Perhaps it actually had something to offer. 

"Huh? What's that? You want the apple?" He teased, quite proud of himself for executing the spell. The horse, partially out of stubbornness, pulled back; the apple, however, was a rare thing and finally it gave in. Ian let it eat while he went to look for a saddle, finally breaking into a small tack room and taking one made from a dark brown leather. He thought it would match the horse's coat splendidly. He made it back to the stall, the horse was finished with the apple now and was sniffing the air for more. He saddled it and after he finished bridling he mounted. It worked; of course, the way to a horse's trust is through its stomach. 

Before leaving the stable Ian made sure that the book was tucked away safely in the large saddle-bag. Then, with a smile on his face, he broke into a gallop. He didn't want anyone to catch him and going fast was the most sure way to do such, however, the adrenaline rush was so sweet he didn't mind. They were one entity as they flew through a field to the forest that grew in abundance around Storybrooke. Loping through the trees for a while, they came upon a cave. 

It was peaceful up here, the cave entrance overlooking the little town, giving a spectacular view. By the cave entrance was a long table, like one you might see at a wedding, set up with a potion boiling over a hot plate on top of it. He dismounted, wondering where his traveling companions had gone, and tied the horse to a tree. 

As he drew closer he saw that the table was littered with papers and ingredients, a knife was lying on a cutting board, showing that the person had been halfway through cutting what looked like a type of pepper. Better judgement told Ian that it wasn't. Nestled in some papers was a small box shaped object with a ruby on the top, strange markings were carved into the side. Curious, Ian picked it up and turned it over in his hands, what a peculiar thing to leave lying around.

"I would be careful with that if I were you," a voice said. Ian lifted his head, seeing his friend Ridley walk out of the cave's entrance, an open book in his hand. He turned a page and placed the book on the table. He finished the pepper looking object and, choosing a handful of leaves, he crushed them and dropped the bits into the pot. It sputtered, spitting purple sparks.

"What is it?" Ian asked, turning the box he had picked up over in his hands. Ridley looked up, seemingly uninterested. 

"Pandora's Box," he said. Ian dropped it like it bit him; uttering what could go for a shriek, Ridley reached forward at the last second and grabbed it before it hit the forest floor, "Be careful with it! It opens, we get captured, we can't finish our end of the deal."

"Speaking of the deal," Ian said, ignoring the panic in his friend's eyes, "where's Rosie?"

Ridley composed himself, pulled something that looked like a ginger root from under a pile of papers and began to chop it with the overly large knife, "No idea, she's probably moping."

"Why?" Ian scoffed, walking back to the horse and pulling the story book out of the saddle bag.

"I wouldn't let her help," he said nonchalantly, sliding the cut root into the pot.

Suddenly Rose emerged from the trees, a rope in her hand holding a positively dead rabbit by the back feet. She dropped it on the table, tossing Ridley a ruffled look. Raising an eyebrow, Ian tried to catch Ridley's eye, but the latter was determined to not acknowledge the new arrival. 

"Are you finished yet?" Rose snapped.

"You caught a rabbit?" Ian said, an engaged undertone in his words.

"Don't seem so shocked, this may be the first time I'm fending for myself, but magic makes an excellent hunting companion," Rose now noticed the storybook, sliding around the table to stand next to Ian so she could get a better look.

"What?" Ian said, scooting a bit to give her room.

"I'm amazed you were able to get it without getting caught," Rose opened it to random page depicting a boy with curly black hair, she stroked her finger down the page, offered a small "hmm", and closed it again, taking in Ian's silence, "you did get totally away, didn't you?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, of course," Ian said quickly, his eyes shifting to the side.

"Ian?" Ridley said, stopping his work with the potion and staring him down.

"I may have had the prince tailing me for a bit-"

"IAN."

"-but he lost me, alright, calm down about it."

"Oh, you got away and then stole his horse for good measure?" Rose said incredulously, pointing accusingly at the animal now sniffing at a bush.

Ian twisted to look at the horse for a bit before turning back to appeal to the angry girl in front of him, "Yes, I stole the horse, but there's no way they'll track him here."

"Have you ever heard of a locator spell?" Rose said, her temper coming to a slow boil. Caught in an obviously awkward lapse of judgment, Ian became defensive, like any rational teenage boy would do.

"Shut up, Rose," he growled, getting so near to her face their noses were almost touching and she could feel his breath as he talked.

"Look," Ridley said, skirting the table and wedging his way in between them, "you two being that close to each other either means you're going to go full out feisty and land a punch or kiss. I would like neither. Are we going to be okay?" Ian muttered something incoherent and Rose did the same.

"Good then," Ridley nodded, turning back to his potion, "Ian, do get rid of the horse, you idiot, she's right."

Ian seemed for a minute like he was going to retort, but finally he shut his mouth and stomped off. Rose watched him go, leaning on the table, obviously unfazed from the argument.

"You really do like to mess with him, don't you," Ridley said, dropping yet another ingredient into the pot. It wasn't a question. Rose shrugged, turning to observe him work.

"The second you two hold up your end of our deal the sooner we don't have to talk to each other," she said.

"Oh, don't say that, Rosie, I've grown fond of you," Ridley smirked, giving her an overly sappy glance.

"Sarcasm duly noted," Rose returned. There was a very awkward pause and she changed the subject, not knowing where to go with the topic they had been on, "so, tell me, Ridley, dear, when are we going to attack?" The boy cringed.

"Must we really say 'attack'? It just sounds... messy," he said, scrunching his nose up.

"Okay, then," Rose obliged, "when are we going to relieve several bodies of their spirits in order to complete a deal and a rescue mission?"

Ridley rolled his eyes, "Oh, yes, that's so much better."

"Well...?" Rose pressed.

"Friday," Ridley sighed, putting a jet black stone in the potion, it shot some red into the air, "while everyone's at the ball."

Rose's lips curled into a sinister smile, "Perfect."


End file.
